


Upon One Summer’s Morning

by AlexSmithxox



Series: The Tale of Ronan [1]
Category: Arthurian Nights (D&D Campaign), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Arthurian legend - Freeform, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons Campaign, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Interspecies Relationship(s), Selkies, but not weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27055348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSmithxox/pseuds/AlexSmithxox
Summary: The summer months bring hopeful and half starved fishermen to the southern shores of the island. However there is more than a few barrels of fish to be found.This is a work based off an ongoing D&D campaign and my character’s backstory. Arthurian and Celtic legend is heavily mentioned.
Relationships: Seamus Mann/Aisling
Series: The Tale of Ronan [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975621





	1. Who Ploughs the Raging Sea

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been expanding on my D&D character’s backstory after playing him for the past seven months. He likely won’t appear in this work but if he does it won’t be till the end. 
> 
> Things to note:  
> This work is based off of the Arthurian Legends and the universe my DM has created for our campaign so there is somethings that you may not understand. Drop a comment if you want to know something but remember things will be revealed over time!
> 
> Enjoy!

Upon One Summer’s Morning

* * *

  
The southern coast of the Isle of Man often teemed with various vessels at her harbor in the summer months. For the whole summer there would be hundreds of men and women casting their lines for the surplus of tope and bass that would feed the half-starved families for the next nine months. 

There was tension in the sea-salted air and it would eventually dissolve into arguments between the kindest of citizens. Just last year one of the members of the fisherman’s guild had stolen from their master, it had been a witch-hunt and ended in vast injuries to the man and the starvation of his family. 

However, the harbor town that was overrun with ships of various sizes and barrels upon barrels of fish was not the only place on the southern edge of the island that was swarming with fish. The coast below the Cliff of Mac Lir promised treacherous waves and sharp rocks that jutted from beneath it. The rough current and rocks often dissuaded even the most experienced of fishermen but when one is faced with a hungry family of five, desperateness prevailed. 

There was where a single man, Seamus Mann would venture from his grimy dwellings at the Silver Dollar Inn for the rest of the season until he could be sure that his family would not go hungry till the spring crops had finally flourished and were able to feed them for the remainder of the year. Originally his brother had gone with him, to lessen the time spent amongst the sea and eventually load the barrels upon their father's mule cart, but he had left two winters ago to Camelot and seek his own fortune. It was harder without him, these past two summers he had to spend sunrise to sundown patiently waiting for a bite or the correct time to begin dragging his net along the seafloor. It was painstaking but it was worth it. 

They _had_ to survive. 

* * *

It had been five weeks of wearily rising from his cot and going to the base of the cliff before something had happened. 

After he carefully rowed his curragh away from the razor-sharp stones that ran across the shoreline and made it to the calmest portion of the beach water, Seamus reached to prepare the small twine net when his fingers brushed over an object that had not been there before. There, sitting upon a bed of dulse and carraigín, was a small peach-colored shell whose edges appeared to be smoothed from the salty grit of the sea. 

Seamus eyed it warily, he remembered the cautionary tales his grandmother would tell him as a lad before she had succumbed to the fever that had wrecked their quiet village many winters ago. 

“Remember my little prince, the Fae are powerful and cunning folk. Do not take unless you know why it is being given,” here she had grinned at him with her mischievous grey eyes. “Unless you want to find yourself whisked away or worse, eaten!” She had always been adamant about the old tales, insisting he never step foot in a mushroom circle or enter the nearby woods without a stout glass of Old Marnie’s honey to hopefully appease any roaming sprites. 

Still, the shell sat innocently by his net. He mulled over his grandmother’s words of advice if such a situation ever arose. Taking a deep breath and dearly hoping his next words wouldn’t find him on the short end of a fae’s ire, he spoke clearly to the open air. “This gift is sincerely appreciated.”

Distantly he could have sworn he had heard a splash to his left, not caused by the gently lapping waves. Whipping around and cursing to himself, _‘by Lugh if these waters are infested by sirens I won’t make it back to shore.’_ Scanning the surrounding water for any suspicious shadows he saw nothing. There was only him and the sun began to rise over the horizon. 

With a sigh and the shake of his head, he scooped up the seaweed and shell and placed them aside so he could prepare to cast his net. What would his Da say if he knew his son was wasting precious time entertaining such childish behavior. He had a job to do and the bass were not going to catch themselves. 

Several meters behind the curragh and its occupied passenger a pair of brown eyes watched intently. Gazing as the man carefully placed the gift in a presumably safer place on the small vessel, the figure nodded to themself.

_‘Yes, this one will do well.’_

* * *

  
Seamus wearily rubbed at his right aching shoulder as he stepped into the dimly lit 

Silver Dollar Inn’s halls. Haggard men and women of all races sat around the bar and in front of the roaring fireplace. He could hear the bitter murmurs of those whose catch was dwindling with each passing day and the pitiful sound of ale pitchers hitting the tabletops as people drank away their frustrations. It made him feel sour to the core, knowing he had no such troubles in his chosen territory and hadn’t at least told a few of the more desperate fishers. 

He situated himself in a more secluded corner of the room and hailed a barmaid over to him. After quietly requesting a small bowl of stew and glass of mead he sat and watched the small group of Tieflings who sat a few tables away. Their dusty blue hands were gripping their pitchers and waving as they talked amongst themselves with heated whispers. _‘Not a profitable day I assume,’_ he thought idly. Then again it seemed no one was pleased with decreasing bass and tope numbers, why would they be?

He shuffled on the stiff wooden chair, body aching from hours of labor. As he lifted his arms to stretch his joints he felt the object in his oilskin shift. He had gently wrapped the shell in a strap of leather that sat in his travel pack, no need to allow harm to come to such a pretty thing. For the hundredth time since the morning, he pondered the shell’s mysterious appearance. It was likely that he had caught the fancy of a lass from the port city, but none had approached him. The young women of the island were bold and quick to temper, shyness wasn’t in their nature and secretly gifting small souvenirs from the sea was more aligned with those of the mainland. The token’s existence was confusing to him. 

Once the barmaid brought around his meal and left with a swish of her skirt, he ate quickly. After all, two meals a day was hard on one who needed all the energy they could muster. The warmth that washed over him with each mouthful of thick broth made him wince. Had his sweet young sisters eaten yet? What about his parents? We’re their bellies empty for another night or had the bit of coin that he sent off with a courier made it swift enough for them to purchase a few cuts of meat? Waves of sorrow doused any leftover feelings of warmth. _‘Merciful Lugh, please watch over them,’_ he solemnly prayed. He ate the last of the meal before pushing it away and leaving for his room. 

Exhaustion hit him like a brick as he saw the pelt-covered cot. Not bothering to shed his boots he laid down on the soft furs and drifted off to a place more serene than the quiet forest surrounding his family’s farm. 

The scene in his mind was that of gentle waves and a sandy shore littered with peach-colored shells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this is an okay start and I don’t loose motivation like I usually do! This is not Beta-ed by the way, sorry for any mistakes I made.
> 
> Comment if there is any background information you want to know.


	2. My Heart Is Pierced By Cupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The selkie and her shell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to the other protagonist of this little story, Aisling!
> 
> Please remember this work has no Beta.

Upon One Summer's Morning

* * *

  
Beneath bare feet with soft soles, the sandy grit felt as though it was heated by the very embers of Bel. The sea breeze sat in unfamiliar lungs with a stinging undertone. The tanned flesh rippled and stretched as its owners bathed in the bright sun granted to them, careful to not sit still for too long lest a burn was acquired. The group of men, women, and children alike amounted to a meager ten. 

The women waded in the shallow tide pools with three children, each barely out of their toddling years, and softly sang melodies passed down from generation to generation. The three men of the group sat perched upon the surrounding rocks, keeping watch over their wards and a precious pile of sealskins should a threat be posed. 

The tranquil scene was that of a Selkie tribe. 

The beauty of the shy creatures was a sight to behold, bewitching any creature who dared to witness it. The song that drifted across the beach was enchanting in its lyrical bliss and tempting rhythm that would lure in the unsuspecting victims who would find themselves the next victims of the gorgeous beings. Curiously and lust the ultimate folly of the land dwellers. 

It wasn’t well known that the creatures did, in fact, reside off the coast of the Island or that their kind even existed beyond legends and the stories told by half-drunk sailors. Of course, most of the time it wasn’t a selkie that had been spotted by the land dwellers but rather a siren or even the occasional kelpie. The existence of selkies was carefully guarded by the shy creatures that so often spent years upon years in the water. That was one of the reasons for their presence upon the secluded portion of the beach, a solitude on the foreign land without possibly ousting themselves.

The other reason for their being there was much more complex.

In the past spring, the fourth-youngest selkie of the tribe had finally lived to see 400 moons. It was considered a momentous occasion and one that seemed to be growing ever harder to experience for their species. With the witnessing of a selkie’s 400th moon, they would be deemed mature and experienced enough to shed their skin for a maximum amount of four years and reside upon the land before they would need to return once again to their home below the water’s surface. The search for a mortal mate and the eventual conception of children was the ultimate goal of the four-year conquest. All selkies made the trip at least once in their lifetime. 

Four years was a short time. One year to search, one year to love, one year to bear, and one year to leave. Every second counted.

* * *

  
Aisling had been the name bestowed upon her by her father and human mother those many years ago. Her father said it was because her beauty was a vision from the gods, even as a wee newborn. 

For the past five weeks, the selkie watched the wooden rowboat leave the shore with its commander in tow. She had watched as he threw a large circular fabric into the water only for him to pull it out later with fish writhing inside its woven grasp. She listened as he whistled idly to himself or attempted to sing with a voice unsupported for such a talent. He was interesting, so different from herself, and yet so captivating.

His hair hung half braided with chords of leather and silver beads that glittered so beautifully that she wished to run her fingertips along their surface. She desperately yearned to get closer, to see if his eyes were clear as the cloudless sky or dark as the sea’s haunting depths that even she dared not go. She wanted to feel what his paler hands felt like, if they were rough with callouses from hard labor or soft like those of her young nephew’s. She wanted to know how his lips tasted, if they were salty with sea breeze or sweet like the berries she had once eaten many years ago as a child.

She wanted to know everything about him and she knew how to find out. 

* * *

As the sun began to set below the horizon she watched as her human methodically began to pack his gear that he would bring with him and carefully directed his strange boat back to the shore. Weary of any splashing this form was prone to, she pushed herself closer to a nearby rock to shield herself and observe her human. 

He went through his daily ritual of placing those long sticks with broad ends where they wouldn’t be damaged and folding the circular fabric where it wouldn’t become tangled in its own webbing. He gingerly lifted the metal bucket of fish before wincing and adjusting his grip. She did not like that, her human shouldn’t be hurting himself. He looked dead on his feet. Still, he continued on and up the path that she never dared set foot on since returning to the ocean many years ago. _‘Perhaps…’_ she thought hesitantly, _‘I shall walk that path again soon enough.’_

Once the man’s back could no longer be seen she gingerly swam towards the shoreline. Plagued with paranoia, she watched for any sign of her human’s return or that of an unwanted witness. After several minutes of tense scrutinizing, Aisling shed her sealskin and stepped on the cool sand that had been so devastatingly hot just a mere three hours ago. 

With each step she grew more and more determined to execute what she had set out to do. In her grasp she carried a handful of sea vegetation and hidden away in its slick burgundy leaves sat a shell. 

She had searched for the past two months for the perfect object to potentially test to her chosen human when she had happened upon a foraging group of male merrows. They had graciously guided her to a nearby cache of glimmering shells that they had stashed by way of tempting mortals to join them beneath the waves. Each shell was different in hue and shape but each managed to catch the light from the surface in the most captivating way. She had chosen a modest peach-colored shell whose rough jagged edges she would later smooth down to prevent any harm to her human. The merrows had all snickered at her choice in shell but she cared not for their criticism, she wouldn’t be eating her human unlike them. 

Her father had also been opposed to her choice in gift. He had attempted to make her see reason by presenting her with delicately carved pieces of driftwood and pearls of various colors. “A shell is too easily discarded, your land dweller will simply toss it back in the sea without a care.” He had feuded with her over her decision for the two months before he finally relented and told her to not be disappointed when he failed her pseudo-trial. 

Still, she had high hopes for this land dweller. So with an emboldened nod to herself, Aisling arranged the bed of seaweed on the floor of her human’s boat and placed the shell on top of the sopping red leaves. She rearranged the positioning of it for several minutes before shaking herself out of her nervous stupor. _‘The shell will likely shift when he sets out to fish tomorrow, everything will be fine.’_ With a glance back up the path and then down at the shell she huffed. 

_‘Everything will be fine.’_

* * *

Everything had gone rather well. She had watched him discover the shell and thank her for it though it seemed her chosen one was a little more than wary of her little gift. _‘Good,’_ she thought to herself with a pleased gleam in her eyes, ’a cautious mate is an intelligent one.’ 

She was so caught up in her wandering thoughts that she accidentally allowed her back flipper to slash in excitement. Quickly she darted beneath the surface as her human whipped his head ‘round to see what had disturbed the quiet calm. For a tense period, she watched as he surveyed the water for what had made the noise before he appeared to accept it as a result of the waves near the shore or the erratic fish of the island’s coast. 

She watched him lift the shell and place it in a part of his boat where the chances of it being chipped were lessened. It warmed her soul to see him treat her simple gift with fascinated reverence and his actions made her all the more determined to continue with her plan.

As she lurked below the surface she imagined what the next four years would be like. Perhaps this human really was the best option for her. As her human threw his circle into the water she mused to herself. 

‘Yes, this one will do well.’

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this is an okay start and I don’t loose motivation like I usually do! This is not Beta-ed by the way, sorry for any mistakes I made. 
> 
> Comment if there is any background information you want to know.


End file.
